


Indulgence

by INMH



Series: Merry Month of Masturbation Fills (2013) [1]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Gen, General, M/M, Masturbation, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-01
Updated: 2013-05-01
Packaged: 2017-12-10 02:42:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/780847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is one of Enjolras's few indulgences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Indulgence

It is one of Enjolras’s few indulgences.  
  
There is so little time for relaxation for him. If he isn’t holding meetings, he’s creating or overseeing the creation of pamphlets. If he’s not doing that, he’s gathering information relevant to performing a successful revolution and gathering the necessary materials for it. He works tirelessly throughout the day, and it is only at night, in bed that he can justify doing something purely for himself.  
  
Enjolras lies on his back with his eyes shut, and lets his hands drift down between his legs. He learned some time ago that images of women do very little in regards to stimulation in moments like these; it is a quiet fact about himself that Enjolras feels he would far prefer the company of another man in bed, and so when he is deeper into the act, it is a man’s hands he will imagine in the place of his own.  
  
He tries to imagine he’s not alone, that amidst the business of his life he has managed to find someone who can tolerate having to share so much of him with others to share his bed. Enjolras secretly craves the closeness of another human being, physically and emotionally. The closest he has to the latter is Combeferre and Courfeyrac, his dear friends, but the love he has for them is brotherly. All other human beings seem to be at a great distance, and every time Enjolras thinks about stepping in their direction he finds himself needed by France again.  
  
He idly rubs his thighs, shivering as his body starts to tingle in that pleasant, familiar way. He doesn’t do this too often for fear of the act becoming stale; when Enjolras does take the time to please himself, it is a fairly intense experience. His fingers dance on the front, then the inner sides of his mid-thighs, dwelling on a zone he knew his body would interpret as a sign of things to come.  
  
Gradually he moves higher, spreading his legs wider until his fingers are pressing just below the part of him that has started to ache. His eyes flutter, and a low breath escapes through his nose. The foundations of a moan start to build far down in his throat, but he keeps quiet for the moment. Enjolras shifts to better center himself, and then one hand comes up and undoes his pants.  
  
The feeling of the fabric moving over his skin as it falls away makes Enjolras’s hips twitch a little, and a noise croaks out before he can stop it. He presses on, however, until he’s managed to push his trousers down and off his legs entirely, exposing himself to an empty room. His eyes open briefly, reflexively, but then snap shut again. Part of the act is, again, the illusion that he isn’t alone.  
  
He unbuttons his vest, then his shirt, pushes them open so that his chest and stomach are exposed. His fingers come down to brush against his chest, his stomach, teasing at where fabric meets skin. Enjolras massages, presses lower gradually and allows his hips to roll upward into the touch. His breath comes faster, chest rises and falls a little more rapidly, his muscles start to tense.  
  
When Enjolras finally stops the teasing, finally dips a bit of oil onto his hands before wrapping them around his cock, it is euphoric. It is the stuff that Jehan tries to capture in his poetry, beauty and wonder and pure ecstasy, all within the confines of the human body. He tries not to think too much on Jehan- sweet and kind as he is, Enjolras is not attracted to him.  
  
The man he pictures sitting before him on his bed is faceless, because Enjolras can’t bring himself to imagine any of his compatriots (even though he is the most comfortable around them), but also cannot manage to summon a stranger’s face to mind. The body shape is somewhat malleable depending on the day and what he wants (Enjolras is not too picky), but the hands are usually a bit large, strong but skillful and always very attentive.  
  
He’s had time to think about this.  
  
Enjolras keeps the moans trapped behind his teeth and tongue, vibrating in his throat and begging to be released. As his strokes increase it becomes harder to hold them back, and he rolls onto his side so that he can press his face into his pillow to muffle the sounds as they become more desperate. His grip becomes a little less secure, a little more sloppy, and he’s rubbing and stroking and pressing at his length, then his balls, and then finally-  
  
“ _God_ ,” Enjolras hisses into the pillow before he completely loses his breath.  
  
Post-orgasm is a fine time indeed, because he goes limp in a way that he can never quite manage outside of this particular activity. His muscles become weak, and he trembles with the exertion he’s put himself through. After wiping a s  
stray bit of wetness off of the blanket, Enjolras blows out the candle, pulls up the sheets and goes to sleep.  
  
He is as relaxed as he’s been in days, and it is wonderful.


End file.
